


death by any other name

by loosingletters



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Cheesy Vampire Tropes, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Vampire Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters
Summary: While on a mission during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan escapes the tight hold of death transformed into something not quite human. In the years following, he isn’t always so lucky.Or: Five Times Obi-Wan Kenobi should have stayed dead and one time Anakin Skywalker nearly did.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 114
Kudos: 650
Collections: SW Especially Satisfying Stories





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pressedpeachpits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedpeachpits/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ASHER!  
> You told me your favorite AUs and I decided "yeah i can totally do vampires in star wars and have this work in canon" and surprisingly it did.  
> Have fun!

Obi-Wan’s entire apprenticeship was cursed by troubles and disasters. He stumbled from one war into another, every conflict tearing more at his soul, sending him into the healing halls far more often than his friends. He knew they eyed his situation warily, as did many Masters given his rocky start as Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, but Obi-Wan didn’t feel like they had any right to interfere. They didn’t care enough to look after him when he was thirteen, angry, and hurting with nobody willing to take him on. Nothing had changed since then, except that despite his many failures, he seemed to have become worth something in their eyes. He wasn’t _enough_ , not yet, but apparently he had more potential now that they hadn’t been able to spy before.

It only took a few near-death experiences.

Most Padawans didn’t engage in as many combat missions as Obi-Wan, but their Masters also didn’t have a penchant to favor aggressive negotiations. Or maybe they decided to listen to common sense as well as the Force and not just rely on the latter. Obi-Wan didn’t know, he was merely guessing and now it soon would be too late for him to ever learn.

He had lost too much blood, he could feel it. His life was slowly ebbing away. The pain had already disappeared completely and so had all sense in his fingertips. At least his death would be painless. He wasn’t drowning or suffocating or being tortured to death. His side had merely taken a terrible hit and he was bleeding out faster than his Master could come to save him.

He just hoped he wouldn't be causing Qui-Gon too much grief with his death. The man deserved at least one apprentice who didn’t screw up and he could see to their knighting. Obi-Wan was distinctly aware that he should be afraid of passing away like this, but all he could feel was regret.

All his missed opportunities seemed to play out in front of his inner eye, weeping. There were so many people he had wanted to talk to still, apologize and laugh with them one last time, but it wasn’t the will of the Force.

At least he had managed to get the princess out of the camp she had been held in and found them shelter. Qui-Gon would be able to find them and return her to her family, restoring the peace of the planet. The dark woods of this world weren’t a terrible grave either. Obi-Wan had been supposed to go to the AgriCorps, perhaps it was just right that he fell asleep amongst trees so old, they had seen the rise and fall of the Republic many hundred times.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” the princess cried.

“-alright,” Obi-Wan managed to reply, half his sentence swallowed by his breath.

He was so, so tired.

But the princess was going to be fine. Obi-Wan would die with honor, doing his duty as a Jedi. The poor girl would get to go home and hopefully leave all the memories of this kidnapping behind her. She didn’t look to be a day over eight, she might learn to forget this day yet. Her family hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on why she had been kidnapped, had only stated that she possessed a valuable gift and no negotiations would be happening until she was home again.

“I can- I can fix this,” she stuttered and wiped her tears off her cheeks. “I can make this right.”

She didn’t have to do anything. Obi-Wan had accepted his fate and he would become one with the Force and watch as the storms over Mon Calamar, the winds on Cato Neiomoida, and the deserts of Tatooine.

“You didn’t deserve this,” she said. “And they will all just stop fighting if I give it up. Stupid traditions. Just watch, Obi-Wan. I bestow upon you my gift of life.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t make out what she was doing, but next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck. It felt as if somebody had jagged two knives into it. The pain didn’t dull, it burned and slowly spread. It felt as if somebody had set him on fire. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the princess pushed her hand into his mouth. Out of reflex, Obi-Wan bit down on it. He tasted something sweet that reminded him distinctly of the teas he drunk back in the temple.

For a moment there was silence.

Then he started to scream. The last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him was the princess’s unwavering voice. “You’re not dying on me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The darkness lingered for long. It felt as if centuries passed all while Obi-Wan was just vaguely aware of his surroundings. When he did wake up, he felt even more exhausted than he had before he had passed out. Above him stood Qui-Gon Jinn, looking more torn than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Obi-Wan tried to reach out to him with his mind, but their bond felt like it had been torn to shreds, was only now starting to connect again.

“Master?” he tried to say, but all that escaped him sounded more like “Mashe’?”

“Rest,” Qui-Gon said and Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more.

It continued like that for a while.

Obi-Wan woke up, feverish, confused or in pain, and his Master was sitting at his bedside, watching over him. When Obi-Wan finally woke up for good, the very same view greeted him once more. Qui-Gon was sitting in a chair, engrossed in a datapad. They were not on their mission anymore, but back in the temple. Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force, he was _home_ , a place he had believed to be lost to him.

And once more he was back in the healing halls, though he didn’t recall them being so _bright_.

“Master?” Obi-Wan said, squinting through his eyes. “Can you turn off the light?”

Qui-Gon packed away his datapad carefully by throwing it on the table next to him.

“Obi-Wan!” He exclaimed. The worry in his voice honestly took Obi-Wan aback. He hadn’t expected his Master to care so much. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “But if you tell me to go back to sleep one more time-“ Obi-Wan paused, fading memories echoing in his mind, “-or attempt to put me under with a Force-suggestion, I will protest.”

Qui-Gon smiled fondly at Obi-Wan, making him feel much more like a youngling than an adult. Obi-Wan wasn’t old by anyone’s standards except that of the children in the temple – and even that varied. There were many Jedi whose lifespans were much longer than Obi-Wan’s would be.

“I will not try so, Padawan.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Lights?”

A dark expression flashed over Qui-Gon’s face, the like of which Obi-Wan had never seen before so that he even considered whether it wasn’t just a trick of the light. Qui-Gon stood up and disappeared out of his field of vision, soon after the lights dimmed to a more bearable level.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon sat down again. “Did we fulfill the mission?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. That was the first sign something was wrong.

He was a Master of the Living Force, always moving like the currents of a river, never still, never hasting beyond the passage of time. His strange behavior was starting to worry Obi-Wan.

“I found you and the princess and brought you back both back. She has been safely returned into the arms of her family and the negotiations picked up again, even if it was all under less favorable circumstances.”

That explained absolutely nothing. Jedi prided themselves on their eloquence, as much as they were allowed to be prideful. While they all jested about Master Yoda’s utter crypticness, they couldn’t deny that saying a lot and not much at all at the same time a necessary skill. Qui-Gon talked in riddles often enough, but never when it came to matters of such importance. Obi-Wan was not a foreign diplomat who needed to be appeased with Jedi wisdom, he was a Padawan who wanted to know whether his charge was alright.

“Was she harmed?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, not as such. But your return did finally enlighten us on her family’s superior standing. The other Ancient Houses have been fighting about her gift and whom it should be used on, which was also the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place. They were displeased she used it on you.”

“I don’t recall,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I was very dazed and so sure I was going to die.”

“You did.”

Qui-Gon’s words weighed heavily in the room, seemingly dragging gravity down on Obi-Wan’s body, pressing the air out of his lungs.

“What?”

Obi-Wan tried to push against the force chaining him to his bed to sit up. He couldn’t hold such a conversation while lying down. Seeing his attempt, Qui-Gon quickly set to support Obi-Wan’s back, helping him up.

“But I’m not dead,” Obi-Wan said. He could feel his heartbeat, his thoughts was whirling and the Force kept humming at the back of his mind, a kind lullaby he didn’t know how to characterize.

“Not anymore, no, but trust me when I say that I felt our bond _snap_. It was a painful experience, Padawan. Worse than anything words could describe.”

Qui-Gon used the moment to gently tug and Obi-Wan’s messy braid. Nobody seemed to have cared for it while he was unconscious. Obi-Wan had always seen to ensuring that he looked presentable. His displeasure with its state must have shown as Qui-Gon smiled at him in amusement and something deeper Obi-Wan couldn’t decipher. It appeared to him to be relief.

“The princess,” Qui-Gon continued, “has the extraordinary ability to create one person who is like herself and she used it to save you. Her gift has been passed down in the Royal House for generations and they were quite eager to claim you as one of their own in the aftermath, but she stood up to them, saying that she didn’t give you a choice.”

All that was nice and everything, but it didn’t explain anything to Obi-Wan.

“Master, I still don’t understand. What did she do?”

“She gave you life,” Qui-Gon finally answered, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to him as well. “Eternal youth and protection against almost everything. It is not reversible. I’m sorry I could not prevent this fate.”

_Eternal youth_.

The words rang in Obi-Wan’s mind as if it were from a language he had never heard, couldn’t speak or write.

“But what does it _mean_?”

Obi-Wan hated being ignorant, being left out. This information was crucial and he just wanted to understand.

“I don’t know yet, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “But we will find out together. The Royal Family hasn’t been too forthcoming with their information before we returned to the temple, but I believe we can figure it out on our own. I already know you’re more sensitive to light.”

“I’m not sensitive,” Obi-Wan muttered. “It’s just bright in here.”

Qui-Gon leveled him with a dry look. “I have turned off the light entirely, Padawan, and you can still see as clear as day.”

Okay, maybe Qui-Gon had been right with his first assumption.

“I’ll have to learn how to adjust to these changes then,” Obi-Wan concluded.

The thought irked him. He had thought that he was finally making enough progress to start becoming more independent. He knew of his friends that their Masters had already begun considering them for Knighthood. Obi-Wan wasn’t jealous of them, he had been the first to tease Quinlan when the Kiffar Padawan had admitted what his Master had confessed, but his doubts had risen once more. He didn’t want to be left behind. Adjusting to whatever gift the princess had bestowed upon him would be another setback.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to take it as a challenge. Jedi didn’t focus on what blocked their way, they thought of solutions.

“When can I get out of the healing halls?”

“As soon as we’ve figured out what blood to feed to you.”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master with a deadpan expression, expecting him to be joking, but the man looked serious.

“Blood?”

“Blood?” Qui-Gon repeated. “It’s apparently one of your dietary requirements now.”

The world started to spin again and Obi-Wan dropped back into his bed. Maybe he should sleep some more before getting confronted with facts that made him nauseous.


	2. Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this story wasn't meant to turn out into a "Let's see how much I can hurt Obi-Wan" series but eeeeeh.

Obi-Wan had strongly disliked this mission from the moment on they had been given it. The other Jedi had kept throwing Obi-Wan glances, asking whether he was alright and ready to undergo another mission already. Obi-Wan had been pretty much grounded on Coruscant for the past six months, getting used to his new abilities. The Royal Family had refused to hand out any more information on his new state of being unless he joined them, and that was simply unacceptable. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, he’d live and die as one, even if it was becoming more and more apparent that death, if he didn’t seek out dangerous combat, would be a very distant thing.

Master Yoda was the oldest member of the Jedi Order, and nobody dared to consider how much longer he would live, Master Yaddle could be expected to live another five-hundred-years and Obi-Wan-

Going by the few notes the princess had been able to sneak Qui-Gon before their departure, five-hundred years would be nothing to him. Not even a thousand years. Obi-Wan would live and continue watching everyone around him die until the day somebody managed to strike his heart with a lightsaber.

Concentrated kyber through the heart or decapitation were apparently the only two methods that could kill him with any guarantee. And because he was already in his prime, he wouldn’t even continue aging. What the Royal Family had regarded as a gift, seemed like a curse to Obi-Wan. It all felt like he was caught in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. It didn’t feel real, probably wouldn’t until he saw the first wrinkles on the faces of his crèchemates while he still looked like a Padawan.

The morning Obi-Wan had heard that his Master and he were finally allowed to go on a mission again he’d been ecstatic and within five minutes his mood had changed. He had forced himself to calm still and be happy about the distraction and this bit of freedom.

Naturally, he should have trusted his bad feeling instead as their negotiations turned into an escape to a planet that couldn’t be worse any worse to Obi-Wan’s new senses if it tried. Light didn’t sting in his eyes anymore as it had in the first weeks and it thankfully didn’t burn his skin, but it was still uncomfortable.

And Tatooine, their unfortunate stop, had two suns. What kind of Force-damned planet needed _two_ suns?

He was glad he got to stay behind and watch over the Queen, even if the communication he held with his Master wasn’t particularly reassuring.

Meeting Anakin Skywalker was even worse.

The blond boy was short and thin, his cheeks a little hollow as if from malnourishment, but his eyes were the color of the sky above. Being around him was like standing in the sun, it burned in the same way. There was no doubt he was the child with the exceptional midichlorian count, but Obi-Wan didn’t need a machine to tell him the boy was the strongest Force-sensitive he had ever met. He could smell it, almost taste it on his tongue. Obi-Wan didn’t need to feed often, or so he told himself, and he kept going on a dosage as low as possible because he resented the sweet and honey-like taste of blood. It was disgusting. Nobody should need to feed on life, but just like a wraith, Obi-Wan needed to consume it to stay sane and carry on with his life. The higher the amount of midichlorians in the blood, the better. Various Jedi Masters were donating their blood for him out of their free will, their Order was large enough that Obi-Wan never had to worry about running out of blood, but he still loathed it.

And after Anakin’s arrival, time seemed to speed up even more.

Qui-Gon couldn’t even let one mission pass without disobeying the Council and the Code. He argued, he broke oaths for one child simply because he thought he was the Chosen One. He was blind to the danger the boy proved. He was too old, he’d never learn the necessary control to become a Jedi when so many of their own were already struggling with it.

But Qui-Gon just kept pushing.

He moved without thinking, sprinted ahead and reached for the unobtainable future while focusing on the present, moving past red barriers Obi-Wan couldn’t even push through with his superior strength or lightsaber.

Obi-Wan wasn’t human anymore, not really.

His reflexes were sharper, he was faster, his senses heightened, and he still wasn’t fast enough to keep up when Qui-Gon faced off against the dark demon and lost. Obi-Wan screamed as he watched his Master sink to the ground. He could feel the Force reaching for him, claiming his life. Months ago, Obi-Wan had been so ready to die and move into the Force, but he couldn’t bear watching as the same happened to his Master. As soon as it was possible again, Obi-Wan launched himself at the demon, a _Sith_. The Zabrak would be faster than any human even without the Force, but Obi-Wan kept up. Like his Master before him, he pushed forward until he finally managed to get his blade into the other.

“Curse you, Jeh-dai,” the Sith hissed, voice strained. “You die with me.”

Obi-Wan snarled, too caught up in his anger. The Sith’s dark red blade was pushed through Obi-Wan’s torso the same way it had pierced his Master. The only difference was that it didn’t matter to Obi-Wan because he’d be able to recover from it. Cursed with eternity, he’d heal and be reborn again and again because this wound was nothing to him.

“You’ll die first,” Obi-Wan replied.

He leaned forward on instinct, wishing to rip out the Sith’s throat. His fangs grazed the Sith’s neck, then he took ahold of the red blade the Sith was holding and finally moved his own ‘saber through the Sith’s body, separating him. He watched as the Zabrak’s eyes widened in shock and he fell backwards into the generator. Obi-Wan deactivated the lightsaber piercing him, carelessly threw it aside as he rushed to his Master’s side, adrenaline keeping him moving as his body did its best to heal him while he was dying.

“It- it’s too late,” Qui-Gon stuttered.

“No!” Obi-Wan protested. “I can- I can save you. Like the princess- I just-“

He _knew_ he could do it. There _had_ to be a way.

“No,” Qui-Gon said. “Promise me instead- promise you will train the boy.”

Obi-Wan was helpless. He couldn’t save his Master. A better Jedi would be able to heal him, but Obi-Wan was once more lacking behind. But this promise he could give Qui-Gon.

“Yes, Master.”

“He is the Chosen One. He will bring balance… train him.”

And then he slipped into the Force, escaping Obi-Wan forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments!!!  
> I'll update every second day by the way as this story is mostly finished. I'll wrap the last chapters up this week.


	3. Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy vampire fanfic tropes!!!!

Having Anakin as his Padawan was joy and frustration alike. Anakin was, undoubtedly as Qui-Gon had foreseen, meant to be a Jedi. He was strong in the Force and took their teachings to heart and applied them faster than Obi-Wan had anticipated. At twelve, he had already surpassed most Padawans his age in lightsaber combat and at sixteen he could give even some Knights a run for his money. Teaching Anakin meant polishing his own skills every day so he could stay a step ahead of him and still had something he could teach Anakin.

Obi-Wan was proud of Anakin, even when the teenager decided to be a stubborn fool. As talented as Anakin was, as much praise and reaffirmation as he sought and needed, he wasn’t handling criticism well. Once he had made his mind up, he stuck to it, intending to out stubborn Obi-Wan at every opportunity.

Such was also the case at their latest mission. Anakin hadn’t listened to Obi-Wan’s warnings and stubbornly ran ahead, getting the two of them trapped inside the broken down ruins of the castle they were hiding in, while outside the people were searching for them, their blasters ready. One of them had hit Obi-Wan earlier as he had jumped forward to protect Anakin. In the height of the battle, with adrenaline pushing them forward, Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed how ugly the wound was and now he was paying for it.

He barely managed to call out to Anakin before he crashed to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin called out in shock and rushed to Obi-Wan’s side.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan hissed.

“You’re bleeding!” Anakin’s voice was about two octaves higher than usual, hysterics seeping into it. “Your entire side-“

“I’ll be alright,” Obi-Wan said. “Let’s just continue.”

But when he tried to get to his feet again, he only fell back to the ground. The attackers had hit him badly. If not for his condition, he’d already be off worse. Anakin seemed to realize it at the same time. Anakin had always been strangely acceptable of Obi-Wan’s needs, willing to address it openly and see what he called benefits – such as his superior healing.

“Master, you can’t, not like this,” Anakin insisted, stubborn as always. “It’s all my fault you got hurt. I’m sorry. I’ll listen to you next tie, I promise, I can make it up to you.”

Anakin pretty much shoved his own bleeding arm right underneath Obi-Wan’s nose, a willing offer if Obi-Wan had ever seen one.

“You need the strength. I- I _can’t_ get us out of here on my own,” the admittance seemed to pain him. “I need your help, so stop being so stubborn.”

“You’re the stubborn one between the two of us,” Obi-Wan replied.

The scent of the blood was getting to him. He had steadily refused to drink Anakin’s blood in the past years, even though it was far more nutritious than that of anyone else in the order. His Padawan was still growing and no matter how often he offered, Obi-Wan didn’t accept. There was no need to, not even on a mission. They had never run into this much trouble before.

But these were special circumstances. He certainly would recover even without the blood. It would just take much longer and there was no telling how much time they had left and how coherent Obi-Wan would be at the end of it.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said, his voice so close to a whisper, he almost hoped Anakin didn’t pick up on it.

Unfortunately, even if his Padawan was twice as loud as Coruscant’s biggest orchestra, he had grown up in a place where all truly meaningful words were breathed into storms much louder than them, and so Anakin picked up on them.

Beaming despite the pain he must be in, Anakin helped Obi-Wan sit up properly, leaning against the wall of the ruined temple. As soon as the action was done, he held his arm out once more, bringing it to Obi-Wan’s lips.

“It’s alright,” he said encouragingly, but Obi-Wan considered it everything but.

Regardless, he bit into the warm flesh. He registered Anakin’s pained hiss, but then the first drop of his blood spilled over Obi-Wan’s tongue. It tasted better than any other blood, the relief that came with his returning strength was immeasurable. In his bliss, it occurred to him how foul his previous meals were, taken from plastic containers, reeking of death and decay. Ever since his transformation, the Living Force had become much more accessible to him. Obi-Wan could feel it brimming beneath his fingertips, so wonderful and vibrant. It felt like coming home and Obi-Wan never wanted to leave this warm embrace again.

“… Master?”

Anakin’s voice reached Obi-Wan from far away.

He sounded tired, exhausted, but also a little distracted, as if he wasn’t all there but caught up in the same harmony as Obi-Wan-

With a shock, Obi-Wan let go of Anakin’s arm. Anakin was pale, far paler than he ought to be, and his eyes were glassy. He looked a little as if he were drunk, or high on spice. From their bond that had been blown open wide before, only peace reached Obi-Wan. Anakin had been entirely content lying on top of Obi-Wan while letting Obi-Wan suck him dry, coming closer to death’s door with every mouthful he consumed. Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed how much he had taken from Anakin until his slurred words had woken him up from his daze.

The thought of almost killing his Padawan made him nauseous. He wanted to put his fingers into his mouth and vomit the blood up, but that meant dooming them both. Obi-Wan could already feel his wounded side stitching it back together, so just a few moments longer he sat there, Anakin’s head against his chest while the boy was still stuck in trance. Obi-Wan wondered whether he had caused Anakin to reach such a state because of the blood loss or because something more horrifying was at work. When this mission was over, when they were home, Obi-Wan had to research it more, fully this time. If he needed to go back to that planet he’d been changed on and blow open all of the Royal Family’s secrets, he would do it.

He had endangered his Padawan, that couldn’t ever happen again.

Once his muscles were healed and covered with skin again, Obi-Wan gently pushed Anakin off his lap and stood up. He did a few experimental stretches to confirm he was back in shape. If he was honest, he felt better than he had in weeks, years perhaps.

His state of being doomed him to an existence as a parasite, always reliant on others. The fact that he still strived to a Jedi was a joke when he proved with every breath he took that he couldn’t be.

But he had to keep going, for Anakin’s sake if not his own.

His Padawan was still out of it when Obi-Wan went to pick him up from the ground. His eyes fluttered, but he was dead to the world.

Obi-Wan began marching out of the ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and the no-good horrible day he discovered what biting people does to them.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Reanimation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote a friend, let's continue with Obi-Wan's Catholic Guilt Complex.  
> We have officially reached The Clone Wars!

Obi-Wan knew he had died on Geonosis. Once at least, maybe twice. He could tell from the way Dooku was eyeing him warily throughout their battle, as if he was trying to figure out what secrets Obi-Wan was hiding. The bounty hunter, Jango Fett, had gotten Obi-Wan once, he was sure. The soldiers that had dragged him to his cell must have further aggravated his broken ribs, maybe pushed it into his lungs so it would pierce them and led to his first death. When he had awakened, imprisoned, Dooku was already staring at him, inspecting him like he wasn’t sure what to make of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan had never met the man before. For all that Dooku claimed Qui-Gon had spoken to him about Obi-Wan, it was difficult for him to believe that. Obi-Wan had heard plenty of admirable things about Dooku, but even less charming ones from his own Master, who had grown to resent Dooku’s aloofness and arrogance. And even now, a decade after his death, Qui-Gon Jinn was still proving to be right in his assessments.

Dooku had become a _Sith_.

The thought alone left Obi-Wan feeling hollow and so overwhelmingly angry at the same time. The man had fallen to the dark side out of his own free will, became the very same monster that had killed his apprentice. The idea that someone could fall so low and betray everything they had been raised to resent made him want to vomit. Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine losing Anakin-

No, that was wrong.

Obi-Wan very much could imagine losing Anakin, almost had thrice within the span of just one day. His Padawan had always been a daredevil, reckless beyond any measure, but never before had Obi-Wan been this terrified. First the arena, then the Sith lightning and finally the dismemberment. Had Master Yoda not arrived in time, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been strong enough to save Anakin and had been forced to watch his Padawan die in front of him.

Though right now their bond was so weak, Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure he would have noticed it if it were to break completely. It was an aftereffect of his death- _deaths_. Those precious few seconds in which his connection with the living Force snapped until he was brought back to life.

His bond with Anakin was so fragile now, reminiscent of the aftermath of his bond to Qui-Gon shattering after his transformation. Anakin, usually so sensitive to even the slightest of changes to it, should be able to pick up on it, yet he hadn’t said a word. Had they become so estranged between Anakin’s nightmares and Obi-Wan’s growing worry about the state of the Republic?

Obi-Wan looked at his Padawan, so deathly pale still and missing an arm. For many Jedi that would mean the end of their active combat missions, but Anakin with his immense potential and affinity for all things technological likely wouldn’t even be held back much. Not that they could even afford to lose him now with the Separatists having declared war and the Jedi having been put in charge of an entire army of clone soldiers. The memories of Kamino still left a bitter taste in his mouth. It went against everything the Jedi stood for to allow sentient life to used as nothing more than cannon fodder, to be the leaders in such a conflict, but there was no other option.

People would die if they didn’t step up. Power-hungry politicians and career military men would fill all positions in the army and use the clones as pawns to ascend the ladder. As long as the Jedi were fighting out there on the frontlines, they perhaps could make it out of this conflict without too much unnecessary death and carnage.

The thoughts of such a dark future wouldn’t leave him alone, not even here in the calming healing halls, looking at the first casualties of the war.

Anakin looked peaceful now, so very different from when he had first woken, confused with the loss of his arm and so full of grief for his mother.

Obi-Wan should have known better than to dismiss Anakin’s dreams. A different Master would have noticed the signs and perhaps would have trained Anakin to be a better Jedi. Instead, he was going to be knighted too soon, wholly underprepared to lead a battalion in this Force-forsaken war.

But a Jedi didn’t linger on the past, nor did they focus too much on the future. He should focus on the present, the apprentice who was lying on his bed, slowly waking.

“Where am I?” Anakin muttered, his voice still drowsy with exhaustion, but with an edge of fear and alert.

Anakin always hated waking up in a different place from where he had fallen asleep and while he could nap pretty much everywhere, he only really felt comfortable within his own rooms.

“Don’t hurry yourself, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and gently put his hand on the shoulder of his uninjured arm. “You are at the temple and safe.”

The action seemed to calm Anakin down as the tension bled from his body, washing away like the sand on a beach.

“And you?” Anakin asked.

He sounded confused, uncertain like he wasn’t sure whether he was still dreaming or already half awake.

“I am here as well.” To underline his statement, Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder.

Anakin furrowed his brow and then raised his arm, seeking contact. “You are, but I can’t _feel_ you. It all _hurts_ up here.”

He tried to lift his missing arm and winced when he found it restrained.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized quickly, trying to take Anakin’s mind of it. “I didn’t mean to cause you any further pain.”

Obi-Wan reached for the bottle and the glass at the bedside table and filled the glass with water before handing it to Anakin. He took only a few sips, then gave it back to Obi-Wan.

“Good...” Anakin studied him with keen eyes, the exhaustion leaving him quickly. “You should get something to drink too, Master. You’re too pale.”

Obi-Wan only smiled tightly. Count on Anakin to still worry when he was hurting himself. He had always wondered if this too was to blame on him. Anakin didn’t have too many close friends in the Order, so he held even tighter onto Obi-Wan. At times Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether they were too attached and dependent one another. Their training bond, no matter how strained it was now, had been much stronger than any other. Obi-Wan had spent the last ten years with Anakin’s presence always softly singing in a corner of his mind. The loss of the melody, the way the orchestra had quieted, was disorientating.

“I’m always pale, Anakin, thanks for noticing.”

The terrible joke got Anakin to crack a smile. It was small one, but honest and Obi-Wan could finally feel the warmth he had been missing in these past days, hear the soft chiming of bells.

“Not pale like this, Master,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes. “When was the last time you ate?”

Sometime before Geonosis and, now that Obi-Wan was considering, likely before Kamino too. He could go longer without a dosage, with every year he seemed to need less blood, but the fights and his consequent deaths had taken a toll on him. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to stand the sight of blood after the loss of so many lives.

He still struggled with his new senses. All around him he had felt death, darkness and despair, but the air had been tinged with the sweetest scent he could imagine. The clash of horror and temptation had made his stomach turn.

“You should stop fussing over my eating habits,” Obi-Wan said instead of answering the question.

Anakin picked up on his attempted deflection and only glared at him. Obi-Wan was usually better at hiding his white lies and omissions, Anakin trusted him to mean what he said at all times, or could pick up through their bond that something was amiss and would demand answers after. Obi-Wan must really be off his game.

“You never stopped bothering me about mine,” Anakin retorted easily.

“Because you would have eaten sweets for breakfast, lunch and dinner otherwise.”

“And I would have survived. I have eaten much worse and would have had I stayed on-“ Anakin stopped talking. He curled his one hand into a fist and exhaled slowly. It was a calming technique he had, ironically, picked up from Master Windu in the aftermath of a rather disastrous meditation session. Obi-Wan waited until Anakin had gathered his thoughts.

“You, however, won’t. Here.” Anakin let go of Obi-Wan and held out his flesh arm. “Take mine.”

Obi-Wan should have guessed that Anakin would offer. Ever since their horrible mission three years ago, Anakin hadn’t let go of it, especially after he had read over Obi-Wan’s updated health files. Since he was the first of his kind in the Order, they kept a neat record on his medical files and changes to his condition, accessible to all who went on missions with him. Learning that his blood in particular had helped Obi-Wan a lot had Anakin insisting he should be the one to donate all the time.

The ensuing fight hadn’t been pretty.

“You’re healing and I’m not biting you,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin rolled his eyes and lifted his one arm again, as if wishing to cross it in front of him. The fact that he was unable too only seemed to frustrate him more.

“It’s efficient.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Obi-Wan replied. “I have my regular dosages and I’ll be fine when I take them.”

“Then go take them now!”

Obi-Wan threw up his hands. “Fine! But stop asking!”

Instead of arguing further about it, Anakin only grinned, wide and victorious this time. Only then Obi-Wan realized he had maneuvered himself into a corner.

“You’re a horrible Padawan, Anakin.”

Smugness wouldn’t even begin to describe the way Anakin was acting now.

“But I’m _your_ Padawan, Master. You’re stuck with me.”

His heart constricted painfully at the thought of losing him. Anakin, for better or for worse, belonged to Obi-Wan and he didn’t want to give him up. Wouldn’t, even when he was forced to.

As quickly as those thoughts flashed through his mind, as quickly did Obi-Wan lock them up. They were not exactly what you were supposed to think as a good Jedi, and he should let go of the, but-

Obi-Wan couldn’t ever let go of Anakin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan: Not attached  
> Anakin: *exists*  
> Obi-Wan: One (1) attachment
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Resilience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing this chapter because I didn't take it seriously. Writing is much more enjoyable when you just do whatever you want.  
> Also! Only one more chapter to go!

Obi-Wan supposed that about five seconds passed between the door opening and Anakin throwing himself into Obi-Wan’s arms.

“You bastard,” Anakin hissed, his fingers digging almost painfully into Obi-Wan’s back. “I felt you _die_. Ahsoka- you don’t get to do this to us on the regular.”

Anakin looked downright murderous and Obi-Wan was fairly sure that right up until a few seconds ago, he wasn’t sure either whether he was going to murder Obi-Wan again or not. His former Padawan was like fire in that regard, warm and a bringer of life and the flame that burned you at the same time.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized and soothingly ran his fingers over Anakin’s back.

Even though Anakin relaxed in his good, his irritation didn’t lessen at all.

“You don’t get to be sorry. You told me your death would be faked! This was _not_ fake.”

Obi-Wan winced as he slowly let go of Anakin.

When the Council had first informed him of this mission, Obi-Wan had been faced with the need to make several very uncomfortable confessions. Not that Anakin had been uncomfortable, if anything he had been very pleased to let the Council know about their little, ah, _transgressions_ , such as the fact that they had never mutually dissolved their training bond, but instead had tied more and more strings together until it was a thick cord.

Their bond had to be stronger after Geonosis to make it through the first gruesome battles. They hadn’t planned for it to turn into its current form, they had simply reached out more and more for one another without the time needed to establish proper boundaries. After Anakin had been knighted, they had been simply unable to undo it, or rather _unwilling_ to cancel the bond. It wasn’t exactly that it went against the code, it was just not really in line with it either. Their inability to hide it properly going by the amount of Council members utterly unsurprised by it when Anakin and Obi-Wan had laid it bare for everyone to see, really said enough about its strength.

Faking his own death was simply impossible with it still intact. Going through with a real clinical death wasn’t an option either. The war had been harsh on them and there had been instances where Obi-Wan hadn’t made it out of a situation in a state that could be called alive by human standards. Anakin knew how that felt, the way the connection would rekindle immediately after, weakened, but growing back twice as strong. Obi-Wan couldn’t die and become Rako Hardeen without Anakin figuring out the faint within minutes, so he had to be involved.

“How was my funeral?” Obi-Wan asked, hoping for a more light-hearted approach to the situation. Instead, he just earned himself another glare.

“Terrible,” Anakin snarled. “When this is over, there will be so many people out to shout at you – and me! – for conspiring. I hate you for doing this.”

The words stung. Even though Obi-Wan knew that Anakin didn’t mean it, they still hurt. Within the Jedi Order, it was well known that Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t just die so easily. His and Anakin’s troops knew as well so they wouldn’t leave his body behind in the worst-case scenario. His civilian friends and acquaintances weren’t aware of it, however, and they certainly wouldn’t be pleased to learn what really happened.

“We’re at war, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “We need the info and my death, my _actual_ death, is something we all need to be prepared for.”

_You need to be prepared for it._

Anakin scowled and it was quite clear he very much not agreed. Obi-Wan sighed and pushed his hair back. He didn’t want to fight, not now.

“Where are Master Yoda and Windu?”

Anakin studied him for a moment longer with his keen blue eyes, then he apparently accepted Obi-Wan’s topic change, at least for now. The next time they fought, he’d certainly bring it back up again.

“Getting the necessary technology to make you Hardeen,” Anakin replied. “I stormed away from your funeral. Ahsoka will be searching for me soon. I just came to see you off and give you your last doses.”

“What?”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped and Obi-Wan could quite clearly make out Anakin’s annoyance.

“Who knows how long you’ll be undercover for,” Anakin said. He looked conflicted, as if the winds were pulling him into two different directions. “We have no idea how to get blood to you and unless you want to buy some in prison, that’s going to take a while as well, so you get to feed off me.”

And then Anakin began to strip away his outer tunics without batting his eye.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered. “Anakin, stop it!”

“Why?” Anakin shot back. “You drink my blood all the time.”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Obi-Wan insisted. “On the battlefield it’s a necessity.”

“And here it isn’t?”

Obi-Wan could see that he was acting like a hypocrite about it, but Anakin didn’t _understand_. Biting Anakin in the rush of the battle was always followed by need, survival pushing them beyond their capabilities. Obi-Wan could still remember the first time he had run out of one of his packs. Anakin had pretty much just shoved his arm into Obi-Wan’s mouth without asking, leaving no time to protest either.

The thought of feeding off Anakin in the temple however seemed wrong, like he was breaking an unwritten rule. Drinking Anakin’s blood always left him feeling like he was coming down from the greatest high imaginable, and Obi-Wan, unfortunately, had had the pleasure to come into contact with a lot of different spices and alcohol over the years. Typical working hazard of a Jedi being sent into the Outer Rim much too often. However, was something uncontrollable to drinking Anakin’s blood, distinctly non-Jedi like. Obi-Wan didn’t want anyone to know or see the state it left him and Anakin in. There was some kind of poison in his fangs that made the whole experience easier on his victim, downright enjoyable to some degree apparently. It lulled Anakin into a state of ease where he was content and saw no reason to protest, even if Obi-Wan were to take too much. He had spent too many sleepless nights at Anakin’s side, the younger man sleeping peacefully in his bed while Obi-Wan wondered if this was Anakin’s new way of coping with the horrors of the war.

Logically, Anakin’s arguments made sense. Obi-Wan needed a stronger dose than usual since his mission could leave him without any at all, but he just wanted to head to his rooms and get a blood bag out of his fridge and call it a day.

“Obi-Wan, _please_ , let me do this for you.”

Anakin looked at him, bright blue eyes almost pleading and Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t able to deny himself any longer.

He should say no, but he didn’t.

Instead he stepped closer to Anakin once more. His neck showed no marks even though Obi-Wan had bit it countless times already. The first few times Anakin had offered his arm, but he said it always felt numb in the aftermath, even after they smacked a bacta patch on it. Those circumstances weren’t particularly great when it came to lightsaber combat. His neck on the other hand yielded the same amount of blood and left Anakin able to battle without feeling the effects of the feeding lingering for a prolonged time.

Apparently. Obi-Wan wasn't too sure anymore whether he should trust Anakin's words.

“Turn around,” Obi-Wan ordered.

The speed at which Anakin followed his orders in this situation made it almost unreal.

Obi-Wan gently traced over Anakin’s exposed skin. The many months cooped up in their ships in space instead of spending hours under real suns had lessened the bronze tan of his skin.

“I don’t deserve you, dear one,” he told him, then bit down.

Anakin hissed, first in pain, and tensed underneath Obi-Wan’s touch. As Obi-Wan began to drink from him, he slowly relaxed. He leaned back a little, let Obi-Wan support them both. Anakin tilted his head to the right, giving Obi-Wan better access to it. Obi-Wan had known so many years ago already that the taste of his blood had utterly ruined Obi-Wan for any other and nowadays he was proven right much too often. Anakin's blood was so sweet, nectar of the gods, and he didn’t know if he were able to stop himself from drinking had he been raised without the control their code demanded. Once Obi-Wan was sated, he let go of Anakin. Something in him was screaming to continue, to make Anakin his and his alone, let nobody else ever touch him, but he batted away those thoughts with practice. The war hadn’t done anything for Obi-Wan but to force him to gain even greater control of himself.

“Was it good?” Anakin asked.

Sloppily, he turned around so he and Obi-Wan were face-to-face.

“Yes.”

Anakin smiled, prideful and victorious, as if he wasn’t aware of what a temptation he proved to be. “Good.”

Anakin should let go of him now, but instead he pulled Obi-Wan into a hug.

“Don’t die on me again, Master. You better come back home safe and sound. Not a hair out of place.”

Obi-Wan shouldn’t promise Anakin such, but close as they were, he could feel the rise and fall of Anakin’s chest, the way life brimmed just beneath his fingertips. He had already crossed so many lines for his Padawan, what was another?

“I promise,” Obi-Wan said so quietly, were they any further away, Anakin would have missed it.

Only then Anakin finally let go of Obi-Wan. He looked like he wanted to say another thing, but the door opened and Mace and Master Yoda stepped inside. The two Masters eyes them keenly, with suspicion really, and Obi-Wan wished he knew what they were looking for, well aware that if he were less of a coward, he’d admit that it was the obvious attachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin, pretty much all over each other: Is this being codependent?  
> (Lmao no, not yet.)  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Revival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!  
> Sad to finish this story, but glad it's done! Also, bc somebody asked and I never specified, physically, Obi-Wan is still 24.  
> This is... 3.600 words so. totally the same length as the other chapters. Yeah.

Obi-Wan didn’t know how so many things could go so wrong so quickly. One moment everything was as fine as it could be in these trying times, the next Anakin came crashing into the Council room, looking like he had walked deep into a Sith temple and had seen darkness in its worst form. To think the Chancellor was a Sith Lord was almost absurd, but the piece slid so very easily into the puzzle they had constructed, it left Obi-Wan reeling. He wasn’t particularly pleased either when the rest of the Council told the two of them to stay back in the temple while they went to arrest the Chancellor. It made sense, Anakin was much too agitated to engage in combat and someone of the Council proper had to stay behind and ensure the temple life could continue as it were, preparing for the worst-case at the same time. To distract themselves from the truth, they quickly rushed through the halls, handing out orders. The children were brought to the innermost part of the temple while everybody else who was still in fighting condition was stationed around them. There was no telling what the Sith might do once he revealed himself. Obi-Wan hoped they could take him down, but taking precautions wasn’t amiss.

“This is wrong,” Anakin muttered as they ushered the last of the children behind safe doors. “I’m supposed to face him.”

“Trust the other Masters, Anakin. They know what they’re doing.”

“I know,” Anakin retorted heatedly. His frustration bled over their bond before swiftly receding behind his shields. “It’s just- can’t you feel it? We are meant to be there instead of here at the temple. We’re wasted here.”

Truth was, Obi-Wan could feel it. The mist that had clouded the Force to their sight for so long wasn’t clearing up yet, it was still everywhere, but for the first time in years Obi-Wan felt if at least he knew where exactly he was standing in the universe.

“You’re right,” he heard himself saying. “We aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Exactly- wait, you agree with me?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan skeptically, then he began to grin. “Time to spring the trap?”

“Don’t we always?” Obi-Wan retorted.

He could hear his blood rushing through his ears as they sprinted to the hangers. They started up the nearest speeder and rushed to the Senate building. Once there, they ran through the corridors, Anakin half a step in front of Obi-Wan, guiding them towards the Chancellor's office. They didn’t arrive a minute too late. The door of the office was thrown open and all the Masters that had come to fight the Sith besides Mace were on the ground, dead or dying.

Anakin didn’t hesitate another second and threw himself into the fight, giving Mace a moment to catch his breath.

“Never been so glad to see you two,” Mace breathed heavily.

Darkly they watched as Anakin was pushed into the wall. He cried out in pain or anger, Obi-Wan couldn’t tell. All he cared about was that the Chancellor, somebody he had trusted with Anakin, had been hurting him all these years. He should have been more suspicious of their meetings. In hindsight, it all seemed so obvious. Anakin was a supernova in the Force, of course a Sith would set his eyes on him.

“You could be great at my side, Anakin!” The Chancellor called. “I can give you more powers than you could ever imagine. The whole galaxy.”

His golden eyes shone dangerously. “Everything you desire and more.”

Mace used the Chancellor’s momentary distraction to attack him once more, but the Sith easily threw him towards his glass window. Mace crashed through it, falling deep into the Coruscant traffic. With a snarl, Obi-Wan launched himself at the Sith, but he met his every hit and slowly began pushing Obi-Wan back. How had they not been able to see that this monster was right beneath their noses? They should have known better-

“Obi-Wan, watch out!”

Obi-Wan was pushed to the side as time seemed to slow down. He saw Anakin standing where he had been just moments ago, a dark red saber pushed through his robes, piercing him, a mirror image of past that still haunted him. The Chancellor standing in front of him, however, was standing only a moment longer. Obi-Wan saw his eyes widen in shock, then man’s torso separated from his lower body and both fell to the ground.

He was dead.

Anakin crashed to the ground soon after.

“Anakin!”

Obi-Wan jumped forward to his Padawan’s side. Anakin was bleeding, heavily so. The wound in his gut was too large, he was losing blood too quickly.

“Are you alright?” Anakin pressed out.

“Don’t speak,” Obi-Wan said and frantically pressed cloth down on Anakin’s wound. “Save your reserves, somebody will be here soon.”

But his injury wouldn’t stop bleeding. Obi-Wan had never been good with Force-healing, he didn’t have the disposition for it, but he still tried, even when he could feel Anakin’s life running out beneath his fingers faster than he could enrich it.

“It’s okay,” Anakin continued, as always completely disregarding everything Obi-Wan was saying. “I brought balance to the Force, fulfilled the prophecy.” He smiled at Obi-Wan, pain twisting the usually so cheerful expression into something hurtful and mocking. “I’m done.”

Obi-Wan was drained already. He couldn’t stop this, couldn’t hold Anakin together and worse of all, Anakin knew it.

“You’re not done,” Obi-Wan said stubbornly. “You’re not dying on me, Anakin Skywalker. You don’t get to do this to me.”

Anakin’s expression softened and he slowly raised one hand to rest it on Obi-Wan’s cheek, smearing blood over it.

“You do the same to me,” Anakin replied. “Over and over again- it hurts, Obi-Wan. I love you and it _hurts_.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at Anakin’s confession. He expected Anakin to be lying, to be trying to ease this for Obi-Wan and his already tattered heart, but he could sense no deception from him. If anything, Anakin’s mind was as open to him as it had never been. The warmth felt like balm upon exhausted muscles, easing the phantom pains with a beautiful homecoming. But with every second the light that was emitting such warmth seemed to fade, to dim. Anakin dropped his arm and Obi-Wan could hear his heartbeat slow.

No, no, _nonono_ \- This was not how they were going to end.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, his voice hoarse from tears he hadn’t even shed. He wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing for not being able to save Anakin before, to spare him this fate, the hours he had spent in silence when they could have been side by side.

Or perhaps he was apologizing for what he was about to do to him.

Obi-Wan had never gone back to that planet, but with the war going on, it was almost too easy to get someone to smuggle a message, a letter full of questions, to the woman that had once been a girl and a princess. It had taken a while for her answer to reach him, but it had. He had read through all of it more times than he could count and carefully noted down each bit of information, added it to his own file as if he were filling out a report.

He was exactly like the princess with all her gifts and curses and like her, this was a trait he could pass on. There would ever only be one person capable of transforming another, and they could only do it once. Obi-Wan had certainly thought about that particular detail so often in the past years. Every time he had lost someone dear to him. With Satine he had almost done it, but she would have hated him for it. Perhaps she would done her duty and returned this gift to its people before taking her life as she had been supposed to.

Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to hurt her like that once more.

He didn’t know what exactly it meant that he was going to give it to Anakin. Perhaps it marked him as a selfish person, that he couldn’t live without the one person his life has revolved around for over a decade now.

“I’m sorry, dear one,” Obi-Wan said. “You can hate me after, I will gladly live with your hatred as long as it means you’re still here.”

It was strange how little he actually remembered from that night, yet he couldn’t forget the words the princess had said to him. They were etched into his very soul, as if someone had heated iron and burned it into him. They rang with something ancient and powerful, danced too well on the tip of his tongue to be spoken in the spur of the moment.

“I bestow upon you my gift of life,” Obi-Wan promised.

He tore the sleeve off Anakin’s tunic until it revealed tanned skin. Then he quickly bit down, his fangs piercing through the skin as blood slowly dripped onto his tongue. Even now, so close to death, it was still ichor that Obi-Wan tasted and tearing away from that sweet ambrosia was the most difficult thing he had ever done, given that he would never taste it as it were again. He let go of Anakin’s arm and instead raised his own hand towards his mouth, biting down until he bled. His own blood was not unpleasant, he had tasted it before, curious as to see what effect it would have. If anything, it was remarkable how bland it tasted. He held his bleeding hand over Anakin’s mouth, watched as the red drops fell onto his tongue the very moment Anakin’s heartbeat stopped.

_Please_ , he begged, _please work, please don’t leave me._

He had no idea whether this was actually possible, or if he had seriously done it and not forgotten a step or messed up.

Fearfully he watched Anakin, waited for a change, anything. A twitch of a muscle, his chest rising once more- Obi-Wan would do everything for the slightest hint that Anakin had survived.

And then Anakin started screaming.

X

It was light when Anakin woke. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to make out where exactly he was. Twilight filtered through the windows of the room, or so he thought. His mind felt empty, silent as it had never been, not even when he was a young child and still dreamed of the Jedi coming to Tatooine someday to free him.

Groaning, he tried to sit up. He couldn’t remember what had last happened. Had he been knocked out during a campaign? His head was hurting in a way it never had before.

His memories returned as slowly as raindrops, one by one until he was engulfed by a monsoon.

The Chancellor’s betrayal, fighting the Sith Lord, dying, Obi-Wan-

“I’m here, Anakin.”

Anakin turned to look at his right and really, there Obi-Wan was, looking like the Force had abandoned him. Anakin had seen him in a mess plenty of times. After especially painful missions, after Qui-Gon’s death, after so many funerals-

But never like this.

Never for him.

“What happened?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan looked surprised and exhausted. He was always tired and despite common assumptions, Anakin did try not to give Obi-Wan too many reasons to worry.

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked instead of answering his question.

Anakin only rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

He actually was. He felt great even and Anakin was decidedly aware that he shouldn’t be feeling as if he could run a marathon. Sidious had stabbed him-

Anakin’s hands flew to his stomach. He remembered the way it had burned, but where there should be a monstrous wound, was only smooth skin. There was no sign of any injury, Anakin thought he was hallucinating.

“What- he stabbed me. Sidious stabbed me and lightsaber wounds don’t heal like this-“

Anakin looked up from his stomach to see Obi-Wan refusing to meet his eyes. He felt guilty.

“What happened?” Anakin repeated. “I thought I was going to die in your arms.”

Obi-Wan stayed silent. He carefully reached for Anakin’s hands and took them in his own. He traced the marks in the metal hand and the calluses in the one made of flesh.

“You did,” Obi-Wan finally replied, not looking away from his activity. “You bled out faster than I could heal you and your heart stopped. And then I brought you back.”

“How?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but the words appeared to be lost to him. Instead, Anakin only caught sight of the sharp fangs that would dig into his neck. Truth be told, Anakin enjoyed it when Obi-Wan drank from him. He _liked_ being useful and he wanted to help his Master. There was no point in refusing Anakin, it was illogical. Though, Anakin would be a liar to claim it was was the only reason he exposed his neck so readily. The Force sang around them whenever Obi-Wan was near and he’d never be closer than he was when he bit Anakin. Just thinking of the seconds Obi-Wan’s mouth lingered above his skin, his hot breath all over him- If he hadn’t already been in love with his Master before their arrangement had become a more regular thing, he certainly would be by now.

That reminded him-

“Do you love me?”

He remembered asking Obi-Wan such and not getting an appropriate reply, any reply really besides endless grief-stricken apologies.

Obi-Wan now actually appeared to be shocked.

“Anakin, how can you doubt-“

“You haven’t said it back, you haven’t told me what’s going on.” Anakin could feel himself getting worked up, rage boiling beneath his skin like a hot volcano. “You can barely stand to meet my eyes!”

“That’s not true!” Obi-Wan insisted.

“Then what is?”

And then, at once, Obi-Wan seemed to collapse into himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, let go of Anakin and as so often, withdrew. Anakin almost expected him to get up and leave the room entirely, but he stayed. He was silent, but he stayed at Anakin’s side. Anakin’s anger slowly ebbed away as he watched his Master struggle. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to try to force an answer out of Obi-Wan. He shouldn’t have pressed, shouldn’t have pressured him.

“You don’t have to answer-“

“I fear I’m more attached to you than I should be,” Obi-Wan said softly, yet the interruption felt as harsh as the cut of a ‘saber. “I couldn’t let you go when it was your time. I do love you, Anakin. Enough that I could understand and live with your hatred for centuries to come.”

“You love me,” Anakin repeated, disbelief seeping into his voice.

“Yes.”

“ _You love me_.”

Obi-Wan smiled, small and sadly like he was expecting the happiness to be stolen from him and Anakin couldn’t stand the sight of it. With one arm he lunged forward, catching Obi-Wan by surprise as he pulled at his collar, drawing him in and onto the bed.

“Anakin-“

He didn’t give Obi-Wan a chance to protest, merely used his surprise to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. It was better than he had imagined, despite the awkward angle, teeth clattering against each other and the faint exhaustion still lingering in his bones. It all didn’t matter because Obi-Wan Kenobi was in love with him and he was kissing him back.

“You love me,” Anakin repeated once more. He felt as if he was basking in the warm afternoon sunlight of Coruscant, listening to a choir singing in celebration. “You don’t get to take that back so stop looking so guilty.”

“I’d never want to take it back,” Obi-Wan replied. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t able to let you die.”

“I happen to enjoy being alive, thanks for asking,” Anakin said and rolled his eyes.

He remembered thinking he’d be alright with dying, having done his duty. He had come so close to it so many times fighting this pointless war. As long as it would be him and none of his loved ones, Anakin had always been prepared to make that sacrifice. However, all of this didn’t mean that he had wanted to die. Force, Anakin couldn’t imagine being forced to miss being so close to Obi-Wan. Never knowing what it would be like to kiss him.

“Even for a thousand years? Or two or three?”

Obi-Wan looked like he was admitting defeat as realization slowly dawned upon Anakin. Anakin had thought the room was illuminated by twilight, but the colorization was off, not as saturated as it should be.

“You passed on the gift,” Anakin concluded. “To me. Even though you’re not supposed to.”

“Like I said, I couldn’t let you die.”

They fell silent again. Anakin had always hated it. On Tatooine, silence had been rare. Either the desert had been howling or slaves had been crying out. In the temple, he had always filled their rooms with some sort of white noise. Tinkering with droids or, the whistling of the tea kettle, or, on rare occasions, listening to Obi-Wan read out loud for him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Anakin spoke up again. “I guess the blood-drinking will take some getting used to, but I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re by my side.”

The more he thought about it, the easier it was to picture the future. They wouldn’t age, always stand and watch until they were as old as Yoda, if not older, but as long as Anakin were able to turn to his side and see Obi-Wan there, he’d never be able to regret it. They had all the time in the world and Anakin didn’t want to waste it. He has lost too much by being too late.

“You say that now-“

“And I’ll say it in five hundred years,” Anakin insisted. “You saved my life. Now stop being an idiot about it and kiss me again.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Obi-Wan muttered.

Anakin supposed it was true, but since it did get Obi-Wan into his bed, he wasn’t about to change any time soon.

X

The bell of their apartment rang, obnoxiously loud and irritating. No matter how often they changed the tune or lowered the volume, it was always enough to wake them up. Next to Obi-Wan, Anakin groaned tiredly and pulled their blanket, really more Anakin’s blanket given how curled up he was in it, over his head.

“Obi-Wan,” he murmured and knocked his elbow against Obi-Wan’s ribs. “Go see what your Padawan wants from you _now_.”

Obi-Wan didn’t particularly feel like getting up either. He had told his Padawan she could always come to their door with her worries now that her knighting was getting closer and her final exams had started, but he had foolishly assumed that she would stick to reasonable hours. Why he had ever deluded himself into thinking she would though was a mystery. She certainly hadn’t had any problems with crawling into their bed, digging her scrawny elbows into Obi-Wan’s insides when she was ten. Grudgingly, he dragged himself out of their bed.

“I’m coming,” he called out and grabbed a discarded robe to throw over his sleeping clothes. He walked over to the door and opened it, but instead of his Padawan, a small grease-stained Initiate stood there, smiling sheepishly.

“Good morning, Grandmaster,” the child said and bowed quickly, eyes darting nervously to the empty space behind Obi-Wan. “Is Master Skywalker available? We- uh- had an _accident_ in the hanger.”

Obi-Wan could hear Anakin hurrying to get out of bed and barely a second later he was standing at the door, looking slightly panicked, dressed pretty much only in their bedsheets.

“If you blew up the hyperdrives-“ Anakin started, “-I’m revoking all your privileges.”

“We didn’t,” the child insisted and after a short break continued with, “but we might have burned something. Maybe. Perhaps. Please come look?”

“So much for sleeping in twice a year,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin didn’t even bother to shoot back an equally teasing reply. He just cursed under his breath and after saying goodbye with a quick kiss, grabbed the kid like they weighed nothing and ran off into the direction of the hangers.

“Happy 521st birthday, Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted after him and, to his delight, felt Anakin send him his fond annoyance back over their bond.

Obi-Wan closed the door behind him again and stretched. He had meant to make breakfast this morning, but given that Anakin would likely be busy with his project for the next hours, maybe he should just use the time to catch up on reports. Since Yaddle had finally given up her Council seat to spend her remaining years watching over the crèche, Obi-Wan’s workload had risen, especially since they still hadn’t found a replacement for her. Obi-Wan was starting to think she had made the right decision. The first two-hundred years of Council duty and been alright, but it was starting to get a little exhausting. He needed a break, a vacation really, somewhere nice. Maybe he could finally convince Anakin to see how Tatooine had developed-

“Master Obi-Wan!” Someone knocked against the door forcefully, this voice known to him. “Chancellor Fett is waiting for a meeting and the Initiates can’t keep her distracted for long.”

Sighing, Obi-Wan returned to the door. His own Padawan and two of her friends were there waiting eagerly to be dismissed, heading for some more combat training going by their clothes.

“Tell her I’ll be there in five,” Obi-Wan said and watched as they rushed off. As soon as they wear near the railing, they jumped over it down to the next level. Obi-Wan’s eyebrow twitched slightly. He had hoped that particular trend had died out last century, but it seemed like Anakin’s favorite way of crossing the temple was making a comeback.

Master Yoda had been right. A long life was not about witnessing one unbearable loss after another and Obi-Wan hadn’t been doomed to infinite sadness. He had the Order, generations of Jedi to raise and teach.

And he had Anakin, for as long as he’d want to stay by Obi-Wan’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be said that the fight scene had to make space for the gay, okay?  
> So that's it!!!! Cheesy gay tropes ending with immortal husbands.  
> I hope you liked this story and I'd love to hear what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear what you think.  
> And if your want to, come find me [on Tumblr!](https://jasontoddiefor.tumblr.com/)


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